


things you say over the phone

by artificialmeggie (ohmymeggs)



Series: things you say [3]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Canon Compliant, DXP19, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-18 21:04:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20198155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmymeggs/pseuds/artificialmeggie
Summary: His phone is blown up with notifications from social media, so it’s really a happy accident that he even sees Monét’s text after they finish with the meet and greet.ORNina tries on Brooke's wig as a joke and it has an unexpected effect on his relationship with Monét.





	things you say over the phone

**Author's Note:**

> I needed something happy and light, so I wrote smut. (what? I don't know her.) Thank you multifandomgeek and mia_ugly for hand-holding and constant reassurance. I'd be nothing without you.

****It starts as a joke. Really it does.

Nina tries on Brooke’s wig (the upside down and backwards one that Plastique had finagled for her) as a joke.

Nina takes the picture on Brooke’s phone using that stupid B612 app she’s been obsessed with on this entire tour as a joke.

Brooke slaps some filters on it and sends it to Nina as a joke.

Nina likes it, thinks it’s a new and interesting look for him. (He’ll never be a sex kitten, he knows this; he’s fully embraced his own personal brand of camp and built a career on it.) But he posts it on Twitter with a catchy caption about fish and chips and travel (because when in the U.K., right?) and on Instagram with a video of Brooke being stupid. _As a joke_. And because his makeup looks _amazing _and the wig is just a little bit ridiculous, but he kind of likes it. Makes him feel a little like Bowie. It’s not at all about him feeling a little bit of the perfection he associates with Brooke.

His phone is blown up with notifications from social media (Brooke keeps telling him to turn them off, but he can’t help it; each like and comment and DM gives him a little adrenaline rush), so it’s really a happy accident that he even sees Monét’s text after they finish with the meet and greet.

Monét 💛  
  
Fuck me up, Nina West. 🔥🤤

Nina’s heart leaps into his throat.

He and Monét have an interesting… relationship. Which isn’t really a relationship, but whatever. It’s fine. They’ve hooked up a couple of times; once at the finale, once after their appearance on _The View_, once in Toronto when they both just happened to be there on the same night. It was fine. It was good (great). It was easy dependable sex that neither one of them was holding the other to.

But lately, things had been harder. They hadn’t seen each other. Monét is the current reigning All Star and with the podcast and new series on Build, his schedule keeps him plenty busy. Nina’s been all over the world with the post-season 11 fame. DXP has him in Europe for two more weeks.

They text, of course, and comment on each other’s Instagrams when they have time (Nina still isn’t over that picture of Monét fresh out of the gym, sweat glistening off his dark skin, lips parted over perfect teeth… He might have it saved to his phone for when he needs it. It’s not a big deal. It doesn’t mean anything.)

This isn’t a comment or a like, though. It’s a text. And it’s sitting there in his inbox, Emojis and all, taunting him. 

Nina does what any non-relationship having human would do and texts back the easiest thing he can think of.

Monét 💛  
  
Fuck me up, Nina West. 🔥🤤  
  
💖💖💖 thanks, boo 

Non-committal. Basic. Simple. The same thing he’d say to Brooke or Yvie or Virginia when they commented on his picture. It doesn’t mean anything. It can’t mean anything. It’s not like that and it’s fine.

So the show goes off without a hitch. Brooke and Vanjie can’t stay off each other (he knows they’re still fucking; has had the misfortune of staying next to one of them in all of the hotels so far; wishes they could just sit down and work through their shit like grown-ass adults), the crowd lives for Meatball, Detox and Morgan are total cunts (but he _loves_ them anyway), and Nina… can’t stop thinking about that text from Monét.

There’s no time to go out after this show, which is probably for the best if he’s being honest, so they hastily de-drag and repack and shuffle back onto the bus, still high on the adrenaline of a great show. The crash will come later. It always does. The best thing to do is lie in bed and wait for it.

The road hums quietly under the bus tires and it’s silent with the exception of the occasional snore from Monique and whisper from Brooke’s bunk. Vanjie snuck down there probably half an hour ago (Nina assumes because he thought everyone was asleep). He can’t make out what they’re saying, but he hopes they’re working through things and not just working each other to mutual orgasms.

Nina can’t sleep. It happens sometimes. Usually not after a show, extremely rarely on tour, but his mind is too busy, thinking back to that text from Monét. Wondering what it meant. Considering the possibilities…

It’s nearly 2 a.m. when his phone buzzes again, rousing him from the in-between stage of dream and consciousness. It’s Monét.

Monét 💛  
  
Sorry i know it’s late over there but i can’t stop thinking about you

Nina’s cheeks blaze and he immediately types out a response. 

Monét 💛  
  
Sorry i know it's late over there but i can't stop thinking about you  
  
Don't apologize. I was awake. thinking about you too  


They’re crossing a new line. They’ve never openly admitted any kind of feelings for each other, apart from liking their sex, wanting more of it, and deciding it wasn’t hurting anyone. 

Nina’s phone buzzes in his palm and the screen fills with that picture of Monét he’ll never get tired of. He takes a deep breath, digs his AirPods out from under his pillow, presses the accept button, prays he won’t wake the other girls.

“Hi,” Monét says, soft and low on the other side of the ocean.

“Hey…” Nina breathes, heart already pounding, wondering what’s coming next (though he knows what he’s hoping for). He clears his throat. “You have a show tonight?”

“Nah.” Monét chuckles. “I’m home. Guessing you’re on the bus?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

Silence. A long thirty seconds of Monét breathing into the phone. Nina pretends it’s against his ear as they lie in bed together.

“Thanks,” Nina says quickly, as soon as the thought enters his mind. “For the text earlier. I appreciated it a lot.”

“Oh! Sure. I mean, I like you best as you, but that wig, girl…” Monét pops his tongue. There’s more silence before he sighs. “Look… You got me fucked up. I… Jesus, I can’t stop thinking about you. I fucking _miss_ you.”

Nina’s breath catches in his throat. “I miss you, too.”

“We gotta… I gotta see you as soon as you get back, okay?”

Nina nods, realizes Monét can’t actually see him in the moment, so he says, “Sure, yeah. Whatever you want.”

Monét laughs. “You really mean that? _Whatever_ I want?”

Nina lets out a noise that is somewhere between a whimper and a moan. “Mmhmm.” He licks his lips. “Yep. Whatever you want.”

There’s shuffling on the other end of the phone and, _Christ,_ Nina’s having thoughts. Dirty ones. Awful ones. Ones that make his dick twitch in his pajama pants and his mouth immediately go dry. 

“It’ll be your birthday when you get back,” Monét says, breathily and slow. “It should be about what _you_ want.”

Nina forces himself to swallow, ignore the blood pulsing between his legs because he can still hear Monét breathing, can picture him running his hands over his chest and stomach, down his shaft, swirling his thumb around his tip. It’s too much. 

“That’s then,” Nina forces out. “That’s… In like almost two weeks. Tonight—” He summons up his courage. “Make tonight about what you want.”

“Mmm. Kinda want you to talk me off,” Monét says with a laugh, delicately, like he isn’t sure how Nina will respond.

Nina was fairly certain that Monét knew by this point that he’d do anything for him, but that hint of hope in his voice is intoxicating. He clears his throat.

“Yeah, okay.”

Monét laughs. “So we doing this for real, Nina West?”

There’s something about the way Monét says his chosen name, the first and last ones together like that, almost like it’s one word, that sends him careening over the edge. Nina shuffles in his bunk, double checks for his travel-size packet of Kleenex, kicks his pajamas and underwear down to his ankles, then _finally _palms his weight. 

“I’m good if you are,” Nina says, hopes he sounds sexy, realizes he probably doesn’t, can’t find it in himself to care because _they need this_. He wonders if he could come just from listening to Monét talk. “Whatever you want.”

“Want you to tell me—” A grunt on the end of the line, followed by more shuffling. He’s changing positions, maybe pushing his gym shorts (Nina likes to picture the navy blues ones because they’re his favorite) down his hips. “—tell me how I’m gonna fuck you when you get home—for your birthday. While you touch yourself.”

No need to tell him he’s already there. 

“I want…” Nina lets out a shuddering breath as he strokes himself, has to bite his lip and squeeze his eyes shut to keep his voice to a low murmur. “Stay with me in Orlando—I won’t even make you go to Disney first—after my show at Southern Nights, we’ll…” He falters. Never one for dirty talk, he isn’t sure where to go.

“Come on,” Monét urges him, voice low in his ear like it is during their lovemaking. “Tell me.”

“You won’t be able to keep your hands off me.”

“I know that’s right.” Monét chuckles. “What else?”

“It’ll be hell getting back to the hotel because I won’t let you touch me, but I’ll want you to. You’ll want to. But we can’t tell anybody, can’t let anybody know, you know?” Nina’s hand moves faster, his heart does too.

Monét sighs. “I know, baby. What next?”

“The hotel room—when we get there, we’ll shower together, and we’ll wash every inch of each other’s bodies—” He pauses again. Because there’s something… Just one thing he knows Monét desperately wants, but won’t ask him for. He’s not opposed… They just aren’t _there_ yet.

But Nina feels bold alone in his bunk. He’s rock hard in his palm, with Monét mewling and urging him on in his ears. Even surrounded by his sisters and fully able to get caught at any moment, he’s brazen. Maybe that’s making it better.

“Then what? Come on.”

Nina swallows hard. “I’m going to spread you wide and eat that ass like you’ve always wanted me to.”

“Christ…” Monét is breathless. “Yeah, baby, eat that ass.”

“I’ll reach around and stroke you, but you won’t come. Not yet. I’m gonna take you to the edge… Then I’ll let you fuck me,” Nina says, tightening his fist around the base of his dick like Monét always does as he pushes into him. “However you want. I only want what you want. Lay me down, spread me open, bend me over… I don’t care as long as I get to feel you moving inside me.”

“_Jesus…_” Monét’s breath comes in fast pants, and Nina knows he’s close, recognizes the cadence of the Monét’s tiny moans and his trembling intake of breath. “I’m… _Fuck_, Andrew.”

Nina throws back his head, gives in to the furious stroking of his hand, tries to time it as best he can with Monét’s breathing and _then_—

He comes hard with a grunt, and it’s only him and Monét panting in tandem on other sides of the world.

“So, umm…” Nina says quietly, almost afraid to ask for the answer. “How was that?”

Monét laughs (it might be one of Nina’s favorite sounds, but that doesn’t mean anything). “I’m ready for you to get your ass home in a week and a half. Like, have fun in Europe, girl, but damn… _Damn_.”

They talk for a few more minutes, promise to text (and call when it’s convenient), then Monét tells him he’s always thinking of him and Nina squeaks out a reply that sounds like “thanks, you too” but really means “I think I’m in love with you,” but it’s three a.m. and he’s sex-tired and adrenaline-drained and not in his right mind. So he’ll deal with those emotions later because he needs to hang on to this separately right now. Needs it to exist in a separate compartment of his brain until he can synthesize everything.

After they hang up, Nina redresses, gathers his dirty tissues, and pads to the bathroom at the back of the bus as quietly as possible. 

Vanessa exits just as he goes to pull open the door, and Nina knows immediately from the smirk on Vanjie’s face that he knows exactly why Nina is up.

“You sleepin’ well, Miss Nina?”

Nina is unfazed. “About as well as you and Brooke, I guess.”

“Well…” Vanessa just smiles and claps Nina on the shoulder. “Tell Monét we said hello.”

There are three texts from Monét when Nina climbs back in his bunk.

Monét 💛  
  
Ask Brooke if you can borrow that wig. It's for science.  
  
(It's me. I'm science.)  
  
Good night, Nina West. 😘  


Nina does what any non-relationship having human would do and texts back the easiest thing he can think of.

Monét 💛  
  
Ask Brooke if you can borrow that wig. It's for science.  
  
(It's me. I'm science.)  
  
Good night, Nina West. 😘  
  
Will do. Good night, babe ❤️  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr @ artificialmeggie. Come say hello, ask for headcanons, give me your own, or just hang out!
> 
> I welcome your comments here or there.


End file.
